Gawain Yeo
@gf110.bsky.social
Hobby writer. Fantasy. TTRPGs. Historically Inspired Colonialpunk.
Pain weighs the same, standing up or lying down. Might as well stand up.
Pain weighs the same, standing up or lying down. Might as well stand up.
Pinned
Gawain Yeo
@gf110.bsky.social
· Nov 7
Demon - GF110 - Helldivers (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
archiveofourown.org
A @helldivers2.bsky.social short story inspired by the recent (at the time) meta narrative surrounding a notorious planet affectionately named "The Creek".
archiveofourown.org/works/54313216
archiveofourown.org/works/54313216
Enjoy the hurt. Lean into it. Pain means you're still alive enough to feel it. The alternative is to be a version of you enslaved to your desires. You know him, you've been him. And you HATE that man more than you hate the pain.
April 6, 2025 at 9:45 AM
Enjoy the hurt. Lean into it. Pain means you're still alive enough to feel it. The alternative is to be a version of you enslaved to your desires. You know him, you've been him. And you HATE that man more than you hate the pain.
Free? Free to what?
Free to starve, to suffer, to die?
No thank you.
Free to starve, to suffer, to die?
No thank you.
February 26, 2025 at 5:40 AM
Free? Free to what?
Free to starve, to suffer, to die?
No thank you.
Free to starve, to suffer, to die?
No thank you.
"What do women want?"
Whatever the fuck they want.
You've over complicated everything with your scripts and codes and programming, forgetting they are and have always been *people*.
You want to know what women want?
Listen.
Whatever the fuck they want.
You've over complicated everything with your scripts and codes and programming, forgetting they are and have always been *people*.
You want to know what women want?
Listen.
February 24, 2025 at 3:49 PM
"What do women want?"
Whatever the fuck they want.
You've over complicated everything with your scripts and codes and programming, forgetting they are and have always been *people*.
You want to know what women want?
Listen.
Whatever the fuck they want.
You've over complicated everything with your scripts and codes and programming, forgetting they are and have always been *people*.
You want to know what women want?
Listen.
The biggest Lords in technological feudalism got their start in garages. We don’t have those anymore.
January 31, 2025 at 8:31 AM
The biggest Lords in technological feudalism got their start in garages. We don’t have those anymore.
A facist? No, you are something worse- A utilitarian. You don't hate. There is no humanity to hate. You just see a unit, weighed and measured by the metric of how useful they are to you. To be cast aside when useless. To be burned like firewood for the machine.
January 25, 2025 at 1:45 PM
A facist? No, you are something worse- A utilitarian. You don't hate. There is no humanity to hate. You just see a unit, weighed and measured by the metric of how useful they are to you. To be cast aside when useless. To be burned like firewood for the machine.
The Regime that governs you? They're not just your masters, they're the architects of this comfortable prison.
They've built a world where dreams don't die violently – they're gently euthanized, put to sleep in soft beds of contentment.
They've built a world where dreams don't die violently – they're gently euthanized, put to sleep in soft beds of contentment.
January 16, 2025 at 4:00 AM
The Regime that governs you? They're not just your masters, they're the architects of this comfortable prison.
They've built a world where dreams don't die violently – they're gently euthanized, put to sleep in soft beds of contentment.
They've built a world where dreams don't die violently – they're gently euthanized, put to sleep in soft beds of contentment.
I carry it all with me now. Here. It's a part of me. It can never be thrown away now.
December 5, 2024 at 4:41 PM
I carry it all with me now. Here. It's a part of me. It can never be thrown away now.
It's the price of having a mind capable of grasping more than it can hold. Like a cup that understands oceans.
November 23, 2024 at 3:14 AM
It's the price of having a mind capable of grasping more than it can hold. Like a cup that understands oceans.
For a brief moment, there was a flash of nostalgia and longing and the overwhelming sensation of your youth. You are convinced, in your heart of hearts, that there is a way back there. Then the moment passes, and you're still sitting in the diner at the end of the street.
November 21, 2024 at 6:20 AM
For a brief moment, there was a flash of nostalgia and longing and the overwhelming sensation of your youth. You are convinced, in your heart of hearts, that there is a way back there. Then the moment passes, and you're still sitting in the diner at the end of the street.
They are lyrics to a song you've never heard of. An inside joke that's been taken to the grave.
November 21, 2024 at 6:17 AM
They are lyrics to a song you've never heard of. An inside joke that's been taken to the grave.
Pull down the threads of heaven and behold the throne of God.
November 15, 2024 at 12:14 AM
Pull down the threads of heaven and behold the throne of God.
It costs nothing to be nice? No. To be nice is to be vulnerable. It takes EVERYTHING for some to be vulnerable.
November 12, 2024 at 10:27 AM
It costs nothing to be nice? No. To be nice is to be vulnerable. It takes EVERYTHING for some to be vulnerable.
On the horizon, on the far end of the peninsular lied the corpses of a dead Empire. Ruled by carrion, it's inhabitants sell its carcass, pound by pound, to those who believe that consuming its flesh will grant them the starboard knowledge of the gods that ruled them.
November 12, 2024 at 8:20 AM
On the horizon, on the far end of the peninsular lied the corpses of a dead Empire. Ruled by carrion, it's inhabitants sell its carcass, pound by pound, to those who believe that consuming its flesh will grant them the starboard knowledge of the gods that ruled them.
I miss the clutch. How the teeth fit perfectly to those on the gearbox. I felt connected. The machine an extension of me.
November 11, 2024 at 3:01 PM
I miss the clutch. How the teeth fit perfectly to those on the gearbox. I felt connected. The machine an extension of me.
I can hear her, beyond the door, waiting for me. And I live with the burden know that someday, I will open it and not find her there. This a memory.
November 11, 2024 at 10:42 AM
I can hear her, beyond the door, waiting for me. And I live with the burden know that someday, I will open it and not find her there. This a memory.
This is the domain of men. Gods have no place here. Lest they bring with them their laws. Alien. Inhuman. Denying life as it was meant to be lived.
November 11, 2024 at 10:39 AM
This is the domain of men. Gods have no place here. Lest they bring with them their laws. Alien. Inhuman. Denying life as it was meant to be lived.
We are all scavengers. Feasting off the corpse of dead Empires.
November 11, 2024 at 7:53 AM
We are all scavengers. Feasting off the corpse of dead Empires.
Step up. Step up and take it from me. Prove you can make the world better than I can.
November 11, 2024 at 6:49 AM
Step up. Step up and take it from me. Prove you can make the world better than I can.
Do what's right. Even when it hurts. *Especially* when it hurts. It means you're on the right path. The world depends on it.
November 11, 2024 at 6:01 AM
Do what's right. Even when it hurts. *Especially* when it hurts. It means you're on the right path. The world depends on it.
The pain is specific to those who know. The implication of eternity. Of finality. Of possibility, closing. The idea of: 'oh. this is what life will be from now on.'
November 11, 2024 at 4:59 AM
The pain is specific to those who know. The implication of eternity. Of finality. Of possibility, closing. The idea of: 'oh. this is what life will be from now on.'
We have to be BETTER than them? When we are ALL three meals away from apocalypse?
November 11, 2024 at 3:57 AM
We have to be BETTER than them? When we are ALL three meals away from apocalypse?
I repeat it over and over, like a mantra, no, like a god-damned spell: "You are alive. And you are loved."
November 11, 2024 at 1:04 AM
I repeat it over and over, like a mantra, no, like a god-damned spell: "You are alive. And you are loved."
It is a lamentation of who you were. Who you lost.
November 10, 2024 at 11:42 AM
It is a lamentation of who you were. Who you lost.
And sometimes, if you're really lucky, you forget.
November 9, 2024 at 12:57 PM
And sometimes, if you're really lucky, you forget.
Things feel fresher, somehow. It's almost as if people here aren't monetarily incentivized to enrage each other for engagement.
November 7, 2024 at 1:21 PM
Things feel fresher, somehow. It's almost as if people here aren't monetarily incentivized to enrage each other for engagement.